For Love or Honour
by You-drive-me-nuts-miller
Summary: Alone, he traversed the kingdoms - no man's servant, answering to none but himself. Then a twist of fate entwined his life with hers. And for her, he would give up everything. Just to be near her... (Camelot/Knight Killian AU)
1. Prologue

**_So I've kinda been preoccupied with the idea of Knight!Killian ever since I saw him in the armour in The Jolly Roger (*swoon*). As a kid I loved the movie 'First Knight' and the camelot legend, so this is a little drabble losely based upon these._**

**_I might turn this into a full fic, if there is interest. As you will see, I haven't given too much away in this extract, but hopefully it will whet your appetite for more..._**

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_"The greatest privilege in life is to live - and die - with honor…"_

_§§§_

The late afternoon sunlight filtered lazily through the stained glass windows that ran just above head height along the grey stone walls of the small chapel. There was a stillness in the air - a solemnity almost - perhaps that came with it being a place or worship. Killian did not know: he had never been one to put much stock in religion.

His heavy wool doublet scratched at his neck as he made his way down the aisle between the rows of simple pews. Behind him, the thick velvet cloak that hung from his shoulders swung like a pendulum with every slow step he made - each one accompanied by the clipped sound of his leather boots against the floor, the noise echoing around the somewhat bare space.

Killian would have expected the private chapel of a king to be more ornate: perhaps with golden icons and intricate tapestries hung on the walls. But save for the colored glass of the windows the only decoration was a large cross hung above the altar made of a heavy stained wood. He had much to learn or courtly life, he conceded.

Normally, he had been told, such occasions were a far grander affair, with members of court present and all the pomp and circumstance that may be expected of a powerful kingdom. Perhaps the king had sensed his reluctance for such attentions - he had never been one to promote his own notice, preferring to live a simpler life. Alone. It was just easier.

When he reached the altar he kneeled. Before him, the king stood with his golden sword in hand, a small, yet welcoming, smile on his face. The only others in attendance were the clergyman and Sir David. He closed his eyes.

The king asked him if he were willing to swear his life to the crown. He nodded. Then from his lips fell the oath he had memorized the night before - swearing loyalty, bravery and the duty to protect a lady. The words were a blur, his mind unable to think of their meaning- instead he was trying to still the throbbing of his heart that played the tune of dishonesty.

_This is lies, _his heart beat, _you are here for her…_

The blade was slowly tipped against his shoulders.

"Arise, Sir Killian."

He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath. As he stood, he let out a light sigh.

_It was done._

The king reached out both hands and clasped Killian's within it, a warm embrace matched by the expression of friendship on the king's face.

_He wanted to pull back…_

There was a sound to his right. He quickly turned his head, feeling his heart drop when he saw her.

_Her. Emma. _

_Her highness…_

She met his eyes quickly. He couldn't help but stare into her watery green gaze.

Her hair tumbled over her shoulder in a thick golden braid and her simple blue gown only enhanced her ethereal beauty.

_God, he should look away…_

He was roused from his thoughts by the deep, warm tones of the other knight, "Killian, welcome to the round table." David was by his side, embracing him. As if he were a brother, he supposed.

"Thank you," he replied, just barely above a whisper.

"And Killian, you must greet your lady, for she will be your queen to serve in due course."

He began to take a step in her direction, but she was before him in a second. Her intoxicating scent wrapped around him - lavender and lemon, twinned together in a sweet fresh smell that filled his nostrils and brought him back to their first meeting.

"Sir Killian," she murmured, bowing her head. Her blonde hair glimmered in the half light. How he wished to touch those golden strands; run his fingers through them.

"Milady," he replied, pausing a second before taking her outstretched hand. Tentatively, he pressed his lips against it. The skin was dewy soft and pleasantly warm. His lips tingled as they lingered perhaps a moment longer than necessary.

Killian looked up. Brow furrowed, he fixed once more on her emerald eyes. Her lips parted.

Then he saw it. The faint flush of pink on her cheeks. The staccato rhythm of her breathing. The way her hand was slightly trembling.

He broke away, fearful lest he betray himself.

She quickly turned away, moving back to the king's side. The flush of warmth she had bestowed upon his skin faded.

"Come Killian, we must prepare for tonight's feast, for it is in your honor."

He nodded at Sir David's words, peeling his vision away from her before anyone noticed how long his eyes remained on the princess's form.

"Aye," he nodded, giving the man a faint smile as they both turned to leave the chapel. David was talking - though he knew not what of - preoccupied as he was by green eyes and the faint scent of lavender.


	2. The Wanderer

The weight of the sword was so familiar that in fact, without it, his grip felt empty and his limbs unnaturally light. The blade was his constant companion and only companion, save for the horse that carried him and his few belongings from place to place. He couldn't recall the first time he had held a sword; it had, of course, been a matter of necessity rather than choice. An extension of his own self that he had quickly learned to yield with skill and precision, rapidly overtaking the skill of his peers.

Now, without the heavy steel weapon dragging heavily against the scabbard that was attached to his belt, he felt naked and exposed. It was at times his protection, his savior and more frequently his means of survival as he wandered from place to place.

_Outsider_ some called him. Others simply whispered 'stranger'amongst themselves when he entered their towns and villages. His reputation followed him just as faithfully as the wool of his cloak. It mattered not to him what they called him. What importance was in a name? Names were constructs of a society he lived outside of - choosing instead to drift as he chose. A name gave a link to family and place, of which he had neither. No, he did not care what they called him. It was of no consequence.

His cool fingers wrapped around the grip of his sword as he led his horse across a bare field - left to fallow, the rough grooves made by the plough sank easily under his feet, the rainfall of the night before rendering it soft and pliable. Above him, the sun was fighting to escape its prison of grey cloud, the occasional thin shaft of golden light breaking through and gently warming the skin of his face. Spring was coming at last. He silently gave thanks; warmer days making living on the land a more pleasant prospect.

Slowly he trudged through the soil, his boots slowly becoming caked in a layer of soft, damp earth. In the distance, he could see the smoke of several chimneys rising from the small valley ahead. Surrounded by a sparse area of forest, the village he was approaching was unfamiliar. Recently, he had taken to travelling beyond his usual spheres of travel. This was the first settlement he had come across for two days. Here, he hoped perhaps to earn a few coins, enough to stave off hunger for a day or two more.

At the edge of the settlement, there were a few small dwellings roughly made with mud walls and thatched roofs. The muddy road became firmer as he headed towards the village center, with handfuls of straw strewn about to soak up some of the moisture.

At first his appearance appeared to not have been noticed, but as the density of the buildings increased, so did the number of inhabitants. Women who were stood talking in their doorways turned to look as the strange man led his mottled brown horse through the narrow streets. He heard their whispers and felt the burn of their scrutiny on his back, but he kept his eyes on the road ahead, seeing the spire of a small, stone church peeking over the rooftops, not far in the distance.

Soon the buildings became of a more study structure - constructed of wood or roughhewn rock - the occasional painted sign identifying the few places of business along the route. Finally, the road opened up into a large square, dominated by the stone church he had spotted earlier. It was somewhat small - three stories at most - but carefully tended to. The steps outside swept clean with a small, flowered garden split by a tiled pathway that led to the door.

In front of the church there was an ancient looking carved stone trough beside a hitching post where two other horses were already waiting. Opposite it there was something akin to a small market taking place: a selection of carts was arranged, filled with bags of grain and piles of freshly harvested vegetables. Killian's hand went to his coin purse and he slipped in his fingers, counting the few coins inside.

Tying the horse to the faded wooden post, he unclipped his cloak, quickly folding it and placing it in the worn saddle bag strewn other the horse's back. Gently, he ruffled the steed's mane, muttering a few soft words before he began to wander over the small gathering of villagers and vendors milling around the makeshift market.

"Who are you?"

Stopping sharply, the wanderer looked to his left from where the high pitched voice had originated. A small boy, not half his height, with hair the color of copper stood staring at him, one hand over his eyes to block the glare of the burgeoning sunlight.

"A visitor,"he replied softly, before continuing on his path. He made not a few more steps when the boy ran ahead of him.

"What's your name? My name is Adam. I'm named after my father. _He's_ a warrior."The boy proudly pointed to his chest and nodded, his face breaking into a beaming smile as he spoke of his parent.

"Is that so?"The stranger crouched down so they were eye to eye and stretched out a hand. "I am Killian, pleased to meet you Adam."

The little boy took the offered hand, his small palm only managing to wrap around a few of the man's fingers. "And what do you do, Mr. Killian?"

"I guess you could say I am a warrior, of a sort-"

"Adam! Adam!"

The meeting was interrupted by shouting from the market. A large man - at least a head taller than the wanderer - was advancing towards them. He had the same reddened hair as the child, but his skin was branded a pale shade of crimson from a life spent outdoors, where the boys was he color of fresh cream.

Within seconds, the man was clutching at the collar of the boy's shirt, pulling him back. The stranger quietly stood, brushing the damp dirt from his knee.

"What have I told you about strangers? And you know at market you must stay by my side. If your mother hears of this-"

Clearing his throat, Killian reached out a hand, "You must accept my apologies, sir, I engaged your son in conversation. The fault is mine."

Warily, the man gazed at him. Taking his son's hand, he stood tall, showing his greater height and squaring his shoulders. After a few seconds, he asked, "And who may you be?"

Killian shrugged, "No one of consequence. A wandered, if you will. Just passing through."

The man nodded slowly.

"Daddy! Daddy!"Impatiently, the young child began to pull on his father's hand, until he reluctantly tore his eyes away from the stranger and looked at his son. "Daddy, he says he is a warrior - just like you!"

The father sighed warily, "What army do you belong to?"

Hand slipping to his belt, Killian shifted on his feet, "None. Well, not for many years. Now I prefer to live by my own means."The other man raised his eyebrows questioningly, "I duel - for coin."

"Is that so?"

Killian tilted his head to one side in a small kind of nod. "Perhaps I could interest you."His fingers slipped into his purse, withdrawing the few precious bronze coins inside, "Meet my wager and if you disarm me, you may take the lot."

The father let out a small snort. Killian held the coins in front of him for a second longer, before slowly curling his fingers into a fist. "Though if you think you can't match me…"he began.

"I'm the best swordsman in ten villages,"the man laughed, the small boy chiming in with cries of, 'he is, he really is'. Nodding, Killian slipped the coins back in his purse.

"Then prove it,"he challenged.

It was only then he noticed the small crowd that had gathered around them. The market had been almost abandoned as curious villagers edged closer, whispering in small groups.

"Go on Adam!"

"You can take 'im!"

The larger man looked around. The crowd shouting words of encouragement. His tongue ran over his lips as he shifted from foot to foot. Finally, he started to nod slowly. "Fine. But I warn ye, I cannot promise not to do any damage."

"I'll take my chances,"Killian replied with a bow.

Within a few minutes, the wager had been settled. Placing his steel blade aside, the wanderer retrieved two wooden swords from his pack, handing one to the elder Adam.

"So,"asked the redhead as he shifted the makeshift sword from hand to hand, "The rule is, the first to disarm the other wins?"

Killian nodded as he stepped back a few paces, "Indeed."

"Alright, then."

At first, the two men shifted from side to side. The taller of the two, tossing the weapon from hand to hand, as if to intimidate the stranger. The gathered crowd formed a circle around them. They were initially quiet, whispering to one another, waiting for one of the men to make the first strike.

"Go on Dad!"shouted the small boy.

Urged by his son's voice, the father lunged forward forcefully, slicing the sword towards Killian's left arm. The blow was quickly deflected and countered by one of equal measure that landed on the taller man's shoulder and made him gasp in pain.

Within seconds, the men fell into a pattern of strikes and defensive maneuvers. The crowd began to murmur, giving out the occasional shout of encouragement to their townsman, as the fight became more aggressive and each hit was accompanied by a grunt of effort.

The taller man began to show signs of fatigue. A blow to his face was already reddening into a black eye and the sleeve of his shirt was torn. Killian was light on his feet and seemed to be able to pre-empt each of his opponent's moves - never taking his eyes off him for a second. He stalked him like an animal did his prey, seeking out his weak spots and attacking them with vigor.

His challenger was bigger and stronger, but much slower. Relying solely on his strength, each turn of his sword was detectable to those with a trained eye. Quickly Killian bent and stooped out of his way, jabbing his own weapon into the man's stomach until he folded over in pain.

Taking his chance, the stranger dealt a heavy blow just above his opponent's right wrist. With a strangled cry, his fingers flew open, the wooden sword tumbling from his grasp as he fell to the ground, bent over, one had sinking into the muddy surface.

"Enough,"he panted, slowly raising his head. "You bested me."

The crowd groaned in unison.

Nodding his agreement, Killian held out his hand and hauled the other man to his feet. A moment passed where the defeated man caught his breath before slowly standing straight and giving a wry smile.

They both walked over to where Killian's horse was standing whilst the spectators began to disperse and return to their previous activities. He pulled a gourd of water from his saddle bag as the defeated man retrieved a few coins from his purse.

"Can I ask you something?"

Swallowing, Killian nodded, accepting the small handful of offered coins.

"How did you become so good? With a sword, I mean."

For a moment, Killian considered the question. Replacing the small cork he looked the other man in the eye. "I'd say it's because I do not care whether I live or die. A man who has nothing to lose can be reckless." He looked over the father's shoulder and nodded in the direction of his small son. "Those with responsibilities cannot."

Absorbing the words, he nodded. Watching as Killian packed away the wooden swords and reattached his steel blade to his belt. "You're new in these parts?"Killian nodded, "Do you need a place to stay? There is a good tavern, just a few streets away."

Shaking his head, he untied the reigns of his horse. "I am much obliged but I must be on my way."He sent another glance towards the copper haired boy who was now clinging to his father's leg, "Goodbye, young sir."

And as silently as he had arrived, he left.

/

He waited in the forest beyond the village until darkness fell. Then quietly he trekked towards a barn he had spotted when sundown had begun. Easing open the door, he was relieved to find no lock barring his way and the building occupied only by a mare and its colt, yet fully stocked with bales of hay. Leading in his horse, he settled him to one side with enough to fill his belly, yet an amount not likely to be missed. He unbuckled the saddle bags and ran a gently palm over his thin back. "Get some rest, horse,"he whispered.

Unraveling his own small bedroll, he fashioned a sleeping space cushioned with hay, only removing his boots and placing his small dagger beside his pillow.

At last, his own eyes slipped closed and restless sleep descended and he dreamed, as he always seemed to, of those he had lost. Those people whose faces seemed too impossible to remember when waking, yet lived on with such vivid reality in his dreams.

_**A/N - Feedback, messages and reviews are massively appreciated!**_


	3. The Virgin Queen

The weather was changing.

Soft winds swirled around the gardens of the palace, rustling the budding leaves of the trees and bobbing the heads of the newly grown daffodils that edged the floral borders.

Sitting on a low wooden bench, the princess turned the pages of the well-worn volume she was reading. Against her palms, the leather binding was smooth and cool, with creases along the spine that she ran her fingers across - like wrinkles in fine skin, telling the truth of age. Tendrils of blonde hair trailed around her face as the wind picked up. She battled in vain against their efforts, trying to tuck them behind her ears before she gave up and closed the book with a soft thud.

Looking up she smiled. The tall form of Dr. Hopper, her senior advisor and most trusted confidante, was walking across the courtyard, his arms outstretched.

"Emma," he smiled as she reached out and took hold of his hands before pulling him into a warm hug.

"I hadn't expected you for another few days, Archie," she replied, enjoying the way be blushed slightly at the nickname she had given him. His expression turned slightly more somber and she gestured for him to sit. Placing the book on her lap, she turned to face him.

"What is it?"

His eyes dropped, and his mouth formed a thin line. He didn't have to tell her.

"Regina," she whispered. Her fingers tightened their grip on the book.

She knew it was coming. She knew the Evil Queen had her sights set on claiming the territory of the Enchanted Forest, but she thought she had had more time. Months, if not even years more with which to prepare…

"How many villages?" she asked.

The older man reached over and wrapped his sun-spotted hand around her fair one. "Three, this week alone. The closest not two days ride from here."

Silently she digested the news. Three more villages burned to the ground, their inhabitants homeless and lucky to escape with their lives. At first it had been one a month, if that - the kingdom's army able to keep up with the movement of the Queen's black knights. But now it seemed she was everywhere and anywhere all at once. Hope seemed almost lost.

"Please see to it the refugees are taken care of," she sighed. It was difficult to think straight. Supplies were limited. As well as destroying homes and businesses, the Queen had taken to burning or spoiling all crops and farming implements. Thousands of acres of land that once fed the kingdom stood bare.

Standing, the princess wandered over to the small fountain at the center of the courtyard. It depicted two swans, their necks forming a heart, set upon a flower covered plinth. She trailed her fingers into the cool water as she heard Dr. Hopper stand to join her.

"Emma," he said softly, "We have been passive long enough. I fear if we do not act soon, the kingdom will be lost."

Nodding, she stared at her rippled reflection in the water below. She felt too young - too inexperienced - to be making decisions that would affect so many souls. "Archie, what would my parents have done?"

"They would have done their best for their subjects."

Looking up, she raised an eyebrow, "That's not what I meant."

"I know Emma, and I wish I could be more helpful, I do." He pressed his palm onto her shoulder, "Since we lost them, you've been like a daughter to me. You know I am here to advise you and help where I can…"

"But this decision is my own," she finished in a whisper.

And she knew the choices. Raise an army, conscript all able bodied men into a possibly fruitless war that would further decimate the kingdom and bring it to its knees. Or…

Or…

"How long did he give me to answer?"

"There was no date given in the letter. Just the sapphire ring, and the outlining of his affections."

She grasped the edge of the fountain, sinking slowly to sit on the soft grass that edged it.

The letter had arrived just over a month before. Delivered by horseman in a carved wooden box. Sealed with the impression of concentric circles, she knew it was from King Neal before she had opened it.

It had been a long time since the two had met. Their fathers had been acquaintances but there was a gap in age of over ten years. She remembered little of him, save he was taller than her and had brown hair, and, from what she could recall, soft brown eyes.

"What would you do, then?"

Archie's grey eyes met her green ones. He was never able to lie to her. That was why she trusted him so. Though she had been of age when her parents had been killed, he had sheltered and guided her and been as close to a surrogate father than she could ever have hoped for. The trust between the two was irreplaceable.

"It is your decision." Swallowing heavily, she watched him crouch down to join her, pushing his thin, wiry glasses up his nose as he did so. "But I believe him when he says he would protect your kingdom regardless, should you send word."

She ran her palms across the periwinkle blue silk of her skirt. It had been her mother's favorite color and she owned at least a dozen gowns in the same shade. In the eastern courtyard, every flower was a different shade of blue. Each morning Emma would look down upon it from her balcony and imagine her mother looking over her; pretending for a second that she wasn't alone.

"But joined, our kingdoms would be twice as strong," she muttered as she watched the blades of emerald grass sway in the breeze.

"Emma, if I may be so bold - whatever the cost, I believe, your mother and father would not have you sell yourself into a loveless marriage."

With a melancholy smile, she looked at Archie. "You are such a good friend. Fear not though, for my heart is strong. Perhaps I do not love the man now, but you say he is of good character and I trust your judgement. This is not quite how I saw my own path, but that is of no consequence. My kingdom needs the protection of Camelot and it is time to secure all our futures."

Slowly she stood and turned her face up to the sun that was breaking through the thin grey cloud.

"So you accept his offer? You will marry King Neal?"

"Aye," she whispered as bluebirds soared over head and her silk skirts brushed about her legs. "Send word. I will travel to Camelot as soon as possible." Reaching out her hand, she grasped the now standing man's arm, "Ensure he knows of our predicament… though carefully worded, of course."

"Of course, I understand."

His warm smile stilled the shuddering beat of her heart.

Agreeing to marry a man she barely knew. Agreeing to leave her kingdom and the only home she had even known… It was alarming. But she must hide her fears.

"Your parents would be proud of you."

Tilting her head, she gave him a puzzling smile, "Really?"

"Yes milady." Picking up her hand, he kissed it before giving a small bow. "They could not have wished for a more noble or honorable daughter. I will go and send a messenger post haste. It is but just over a day's journey by the fastest courier - perhaps we will receive a response before the week is out."

Giving a weak smile,****she watched her confidant's tall figure disappear into the small doorway that led back into the castle keep.

Alone again, she looked back up at the sky. The clouds were now breaking up. Their soft grey becoming a fluffy white, releasing the beautiful blue that was hidden beyond.

Was the sky the same blue at Camelot, she wondered? Was the scent of the periwinkles as sweet? Did the sun shine as warm?

She hugged herself tight as she realized, she would soon enough know.

Whether she liked it or not.

_**a/n so our main players have been met. Time for them to meet each other!**_


	4. Two Threads Entwine

_**A/N- While still a T rated chapter, there are references to non-consensual sex in this chapter.**_

Traveling had never been an activity that Emma had enjoyed. Not, however, for a dislike of the end product; exploring new places had been quite the passion of the princess's before an unexpected and early succession to the thrown had clipped her wings. Instead it was due to the pure boredom and wasted time it took to move from place to place. On horseback, it was barely tolerable. She could travel from one end of her kingdom to the other in a matter of four or five days. But in a carriage, and one accompanied by several armed guards and a further array of carts and carriages carrying luggage and all manner or servants and advisors- it seemed to take an age to make any progress.

They had begun their journey two days earlier, when it was still dark outside but the sweet sound of early spring birdsong had filled the air as she had stepped into the carriage with her ladies in waiting, Mary Margaret and Ruby. The first day had passed without any incidents of consequence. Mary Margaret quietly stitched as Emma read and Ruby slept. An easy routine had been established involving a rest stop ever few hours where the horses where given water and the ladies stretched their legs. That night they had stayed in a tavern that had been rented out for the party and fed with a fine feast of roast pork and butter bean stew.

She hadn't slept much, if at all. From the window in her small, but comfortable, room she watched the stars awaken as a sliver of crescent moon provided a brief amount of illumination in the otherwise velvety dark of midnight. As she traced the constellations with her eyes, her mind had wandered to the letter she had received a week earlier. It had been written by his hand - she could tell, the letters were written with a flourish but lacking the precision of that of a scribe. He had expressed his thanks and happiness produced by her acceptance of his proposal and made promises to ensure her the happiest woman he possibly could. When Archie had retired and left her alone with the letter, she had ran her fingers over the fine print, imagining his hand moving across the page and making the startling realization that this was the closest she had been to her betrothed. Her future husband.

Was it madness to marry a man she barely knew? Would she love him? She knew she would try. It was what her parents would have wanted - for her to be happy. And she knew that love was something she had always desired. Her parents had been so enamored with each other, it had made her blush as a child, the way they held hands and exchanged frequent kisses. But all the while watching them a desire for the same had grown in her heart and she knew she would never feel complete without savoring true love for herself.

And then things had changed.

They were gone. Left alone, she stumbled through ruling a kingdom when she was barely old enough to know her own mind. Yet as she grew stronger - and so did her enemies - a further need had taken seed in her heart. The need to be of service to her kingdom and to honour it with her deeds and her life.

So as she toyed with the sapphire engagement ring that still felt so foreign on her finger, she hoped for love but sated herself with the understanding that at least she would have the honour or serving her kingdom.

Those thoughts had continued into the next couple of days and preoccupied her mind. Now into the third day of travel, the journey had become only slightly more bearable. Her two ladies in waiting seemed to have sensed her tense mood and did their best to distract her.

"So, what do you think the fashions will be like at Camelot?" Ruby asked as she plaited her long, chestnut hair, "I heard that shades of green are the most popular right now."

"I prefer blue," Emma sighed as she propped her elbow onto the carriage window and watched the trees amble by as the group passed through a small forest.

"And for good reason, it suits you," Mary Margaret added. Emma couldn't help but smile at her shy friend's comment.

"You think everything suits me."

Dropping her needlework, the dark haired beauty leaned over the seat between them, "I only speak the truth. You know your beauty is famous."

Emma blushed at the compliment. She knew her skin was fair and her figure was neat but she had considered herself more than attractive than most other women. "I know nothing of that," she shrugged, placing her hand over the other woman's, "Though I do know the men of Camelot are going to be quite pleased when they meet my ladies in waiting."

Mary Margaret's round, apple cheeks turned a pretty shade of red as Ruby tossed back her head and laughed, "I've heard all the tales of King Neal's private knights - apparently they are rather handsome!"

"Ruby!" Mary Margaret hushed, kicking out her foot softly towards the laughing girl's knee, "We are going to be there to serve."

Emma tightened her fingers, "And you will do a fine job. But I know as two eligible young ladies, your thoughts will naturally turn to marriage sometime soon." Biting her lip, the quieter of the two nodded.

Yawning, the princess realized her lack of sleep the night before had taken its toll. "My ladies, I feel rather fatigued. Wake me when we stop?"

"Of course, your highness," Ruby nodded as Emma folded up her traveling cloak and fashioned a small pillow to place between her head and the wooden shell of the carriage.

Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

/

"Come on, horse," Killian urged, tugging on the worn leather reigns as they made their way through the dense woodland where it was too difficult to ride. The horse was reluctant, pulling back towards an easier path. Sighing, Killian gave up and allowed the horse to lead him back towards the main road. The journey would be longer but it would at least be a little less difficult than dealing with an obstinate animal.

It had been hours since he had come across any other travelers. After filling his purse over the past few days he had decided to venture towards the less populated parts of this kingdom.

He found solace in the silence in the forest and hills. Yes, one had to look beyond the sound of birdsong and wild animals, to block out the gentle rush of the streams and rivers and the rustle of leaves in the wind - but beyond that lay the simple pleasure in being alone. No one near to cross his path or to ask him questions he didn't wish to answer.

The full saddle bags made retracing the steps back to the road all the more difficult. They slowed to a gentle trudge, the horse snorting softly in approval of their new route. "Aye, you would be happy about this wouldn't you," he muttered as they picked their way through the bushes.

Suddenly, his ears picked up. It was the sound of horse hooves - many of them - trotting along the earthen road ahead. He pulled the reins tight. Tying the horse to a stout, nearby tree, he crept closer towards the road, his hand curving around the grip of his sword. Carefully, he pulled back a small branch that allowed him a view of the approaching caravan. He counted three carriages, at least, and then a dozen more men on horseback. _Strange, _he thought as he leaned further towards the road. Then he caught a glimpse of a royal crest - a swan topped with a golden crown and edged in a ring of red roses. _Royalty? _It was not a common sight for kings and queens to travel en masse in such uninhabited parts. Still, he sensed no danger from the presence and quietly he crept back towards his horse, satisfied he would be left undisturbed.

/

When the cart jolted heavily to the left, Emma felt for a second like she was flying. In her dream she had been walking along the Eastern footpath, tending to the flowers, when all of a sudden she was being wrenched to one side, her feet flying from under her. Groggily, she brushed the sore spot that began to ache angrily on the side of her temple.

"Wha-" she managed to exclaim before a further jolt brought the carriage to a halt. Before she realized what was happening, she and Mary Margaret were tangled in a heap on the floor of the carriage as shouting began to fill the air.

"What is going on?" groaned Ruby as she reached out a hand for the princess.

Her question was answered a second later when a royal guard appeared at the small window in the door, Emma slid down the glass pane. "Excuse me Your Highness, apologies for the way the carriage stopped, there is a blockage in the road, it must be cleared before we can continue."

"How long?"

He gave a pained smile, "It is quite a large tree, madam. We will work as quickly as we can but I recommend you stay put."

Returning the window to its previous position Emma pulled down the small blind above it to block out the sunlight that was now streaming through - its heat intensifying through the lens of the glass.

"Looks like we will arrive in Lemington later than planned," Ruby sighed, stretching her legs along the empty seat beside her, "And I had planned on taking a bath."

Frowning, Mary Margaret sighed, "You had a bath two days ago Ruby, I think it is Emma who must take first priority over…"

Emma tuned out the sounds of her two sniping ladies in waiting. Never had two characters ever been so misaligned, but she knew they loved each other as sisters, despite outward appearances on occasion. She laid her head against the cotton blind, listening instead to the sounds of the guards working outside.

Almost drifting back to sleep, she started when she heard the clash of steel blades. Remaining still, she held her breath and listened - there it was again. And once more.

"Shush!" she hissed at the two other women, darting over to the other side of the carriage and preying open the uncovered window just enough so she could peek out and see what was happening ahead of them. Immediately, her heart fell through her stomach.

Black knights. Approaching from ahead on horseback. Too many to count.

"Oh God," she whispered, sucking in a shivering breath.

She needed to think.

Sinking back into the carriage seat, she looked back and forth between the other two women.

"What is it?" Ruby asked with a creased brow.

"First, you must keep calm," at that Mary Margaret's face instantly paled, "There are black knights ahead. Regina's private army."

Ruby took a quick breath and stiffened in her seat.

"We have a few seconds more - the guards are ahead of us. I will count to five and then open the door and then you must run."

"Run? We can't do that, we can't leave you, I won't-"

The words tumbled loosely from Mary Margaret's mouth. Emma reached across and pressed her palm over the babbling woman's lips. "We all know it is I who they want. I can take care of myself but I will not endanger you." She nodded as Emma removed her hand, "Head away from the road. The forest is dense, and you will be easy to find."

"What about you?" hissed Ruby.

"I will run the other way once you are gone. Trust me."

The two women looked wary, but Emma ignored them and started to count softly.

"One, two, three," she reached for the handle of the door, "Four, five-"

Yanking the handle down, she swung the door open and then grabbed Mary Margaret's hand, pushing her from the carriage and nudging Ruby just after her. She chanced a look ahead. The black knights were closer; her guards were putting up a good fight, but they were far outnumbered. Suddenly, she saw one of the attackers break free from the group and chase towards her on his midnight black horse.

Barely stopping to breathe, Emma dived to the other side of the carriage, kicking the door open with her knee before darting for the cover of the surrounding forest.

**/**

First he heard voices. Shouting, but not in an alarmed manner. Ignoring the sound, he continued on his way, tracking the path of the road but far enough away to not be seen.

A few minutes later was when he heard the first sinister sound. The voices had become harsher, and within a second there was the sound of metal clashing and horses rearing up.

Pausing, he looked at his horse. The mottled grey and white mare kicked the ground with one of its hooves. Its large, black eyes were frames with long, thick lashes that gave the animal an almost human look.

"You think I should go take a look, don't you?"

The horse blinked.

Killian licked his lips and moved his hand to his sword.

"This is going to delay us. Nice green field waiting for you you know."

The horse shook his head and blew out a snort of hot air.

"Fine, I'll go look. You wait here."

Patting the horse on the neck, he made his way back towards the road. It was at the rise of a small embankment. He crawled up slowly, keeping low until he could see through the foliage. The carriages had halted. He looked ahead and saw the cause of the delay. Swearing under his breath, he watched the black knights as they thrashed their way through the defensive guards with ruthless accuracy.

There was a sudden dull thud that came from one of the carriages. Quickly, he looked and saw two bodies drop down into the gulley on the opposite side of the road - bundles of fabric that quickly stood and he watched while two pairs of feet scurry away. A second later, the door on the side of the carriage closest to him swung open and out another figure emerged in a flash of blue silk and blonde hair.

His grip tightened on his sword. He stilled, unsure when to make his move - or how he should actually respond to the situation unfolding. The fighting ahead was intensifying.

He looked back at the woman. She was heading for the woods ahead of him. His breath caught in his throat. One of the black knights had broken away from the group and was headed towards her.

"Damn," he whispered, unsheathing his sword before following.

/

Leaving the carriage, one of Emma's slippers fell from her foot and her skirt had became entangled on the step. After giving the silk a tug, she dashed towards the cover of the trees, skidding as she hit the steep incline on which the road was atop. She heard her pursuer's horse come to a halt, but she daren't look back. Instead she tumbled further and deeper into the darkness of the wood, grabbing the trunks and branches of the thin, towering trees to stop herself from falling.

The undergrowth nipped into her bare foot and she winced in pain as branches slapped her in the face. She had no idea where she was going, running blindly as the ground beneath her feet became flatter. Behind her, she could still hear the sounds of fighting. Chancing a glance backwards, she slowed slightly and turned her head just in time for her foot to slip against a mossy raised root.

The fall was hard and pressed the air out of her lungs when she landed heavily on her back. For a second, she was dazed, unable to breathe. Her chest felt tight, burning for oxygen though the necessary muscles seemed paralyzed. There was a gap in the trees above her. Her mouth slipped open as she arched her tender back, watching a single bird soar through the blue sky.

Her ears began to buzz a little. The sounds of the sword fighting became unclear.

"Keep quiet and come with me."

_A voice? Whose?_

A hand gripped hers, pulling her upright as the world span around her. It was pulling her further into the woods. Blindly she let herself be led, sucking heavy breaths into her reluctant lungs as she concentrated on watching her feet and making sure she didn't stumble again. She passed at least two dozen more trees, beneath her the ground was damp and her remaining slipper coated in mud.

Then as suddenly as the stranger had hauled her to her feet, the same strong hand was over her mouth, another coming around her waist and pulling her flush against his body.

Shivering, she considered her options. Her supposed rescuer seemed to not want to attract the attentions of her attackers any more than she did. That said, she still had no idea who this man was - she presumed it was a man by his build and low voice. The forests were known to harbour criminals and miscreants in their depths and falling prey to their kind would not be a vastly superior situation to being captured by Regina's minions.

Sucking in a deep breath, she felt the arm around her expand with the intake of air, then quickly she released it, using the change in diameter of her body to slip through his arms, letting her legs loosen at the knee until she was free of his grip. Panting, she began to stumble ahead, pulling herself back up as she felt him chasing at her heels.

"Lass! Stop!"

She paid no heed and continued until her feet gave away and she was slipping again, down a steep bank that landed in a small stream - unable to stop herself she rolled into it, landing with a splash. The cold water soaked her skirts instantly. Heavy, they stuck to her legs as she struggled to stand, only realising too late that her escape plan had failed.

Before her stood a tall man, dark haired, with a short beard and dressed in muted, plain tones. In his hand he held a sword - a fine looking one with a gilded grip wrapped with a strip of leather.

She looked up, the sun behind him blocking a finer view of his face, "If you knew who I was, you would know that I am more valuable to you… intact."

"Intact?" he repeated, twisting his head quizzically to the side as she wrapped her arms around her body. "Oh," he softly sighed when he understood her meaning. "Lass, I think you'll find I was trying to rescue you."

"It's your highness, I'll thank you."

The man smirked, before dipping into a small, mock bow, "Why your highness, beg my forgiveness for saving you from the Evil Queen's guards."

She looked him up and down. He didn't look like a vagrant - too well fed with clear muscles about his shoulders and arms. Still, perhaps he was some kind of thief, who else would be hiding out in the woods?

"I think you will find I was doing quite well before you came along and grabbed me."

With a scathing glance towards her, he pressed the tip of his sword into the earth edging the stream and leaned against it, "I believe I found you face down in the mud."

_Was he mocking her? How dare he-_

"That's not-"

Before she could finish, the stranger had reached forward again and grabbed her arm.

"What-"

He pulled her tight against him, "Learn to close your mouth, your highness," he whispered into her ear, his hot breath prickling her skin, "We have company."

It was hard to stay calm; a strange man pressed against her all the whilst being pursued by the army of a feared enemy. Her mind was running a mile a minute when she felt him shift behind her.

"Follow my lead," he whispered in her ear.

Unable to react quickly, the stranger suddenly turned her arm behind her. Her elbow pinched and she let out a small cry. On the bank above them, there was a sound of rustling followed by what she had feared - the appearance of a black knight, blade held proud ahead of him.

"I've got her!" The knight turned his head to them and the stranger continued, "You're looking for this girl?"

"Hand her over," grunted the guard. The man leaned to one side and she felt him place his sword in its scabbard.

"Now then," he began, slipping his free hand around her waist, "Perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement."

Her heart was racing. What was going on? Was he going to hand her over? Was he trying to trick her - or worse?

"I have my orders. Queen _Regina's_ orders."

"Ah," the stranger sighed behind her. He let go of her wrist and the pain in her arm faded as he slung her against his hip and started to trek up the bank, "You see," he panted at the effort of trying to pull her while she struggled against his grip, "I was hoping for some kind of reward."

"Her highness does not give rewards," the knight scowled. Now they were on the same level as him, Emma could just see his eyes peeking though the black mask; they seemed as dark as his leather armour.

"Well maybe we could work something out - man to man. She is a mighty pretty thing."

Panic began to swell in her chest.

She knew it. She knew he was not to be trusted. He was going to take her like a common slattern and then hand her over to the knight. She let out a quiet sob. And then as if to prove his point, he ran a finger through a lose stand of her hair.

"We can share," he continued, "You go and I'll hold her then, well, you get the idea."

The knight was quiet.

She wouldn't let the tears fall, she wouldn't let them know her fear.

"We'll have to be quick," he finally replied.

Her stomach clenched. _Oh god, oh god, this was actually happening…_

"Good," quipped her jailor. "Now, if you just take her for a moment while I get ready-"

The guard hesitated for a second. She felt herself being pushed towards him. Slowly, he pulled off his black helmet, revealing a shaved, scarred head. She recoiled.

"Damn you to hell and back you brutes!"

The man in front of her laughed as he reached for his belt that held his leather armour in place. "She has spirit, I like that."

The next actions occurred in a split second and it was difficult for Emma to comprehend what was happening. She felt another push and then she was free of the stranger's grip. Hurtling towards the unveiled guard, she took him by surprise and he dropped his sword in order to steady her and avoid the two falling to the ground. Just as she was about to push away and making a run for it, she heard the unmistakable sound of a blade piercing flesh and bone. The knight's face instantly greyed; shaking, she stepped back. Over his shoulder she saw the grinning face of her rescuer (or attacker or - oh she didn't know) as he withdrew his sword from the man's back.

Blindsided, she stood shocked for a moment, until her still damps skirts caused her to shiver anew.

The knight groaned and slid to the ground. Blood was seeping easily from his body. The man stepped forward and slammed the blade once more into his chest and the noises stopped short. "Better to let him die swiftly than bleed for hours," he explained as he walked over to a nearby tree and began to wipe the ruby red blood from the weapon with a large leaf.

"Uh, yes…" she stuttered, scared, stunned and slightly unsure as to what had just happened. "Who are you? What do you plan to do with me? Why are you h-"

"So many questions," he interrupted. He replaced his sword and then kicked the now still body. It didn't move.

"I already told you, I was trying to help."

She gave him a wary look and tightened her arms around her body.

"You're shivering." She watched as his hands unbuttoned his wool coat. They looked like hands of a man who had worked hard in his lifetime, with wide palms and heavy knuckles. "Here."

Confused, she took the coat, too cold in that moment to worry about the consequences of accepting his assistance. "Why? Why did you help me?" she asked.

For the first time, he looked at her directly. Against the faded greens of the forest and the dull colour of his shirt, his eyes were a vivid blue. Almost like the colour of a periwinkle, she thought absentmindedly.

"Because it was the right thing to do, to help a lady in distress," he replied simply. She detected no deception in his voice or manner. It had been something of a family joke that she was always able to tell when someone was lying. It had certainly helped her when choosing those to keep close to her within the royal cabinet.

"Okay," she nodded, pushing her arms into the coat; it was still warm from the heat of his body. "May I ask who you are and why you are wandering about these woods seemingly alone and without any means of transportation?"

He seemed to be almost smiling when she spoke. The corners of his lips were curved slightly, but the expression didn't extend to his eyes, though still shimmering blue, they retained their almost sad looking shape. "My name, if you require it, is Killian. I am travelling through these parts on the way to another realm."

"Camelot?" she suggested.

He nodded. "Aye - eventually. And I have a horse, since you seem concerned for my welfare, fully stocked with provisions, I left him back in the woods somewhere when I heard the commotion."

"Oh," Emma replied softly. It seemed to make some sense. Perhaps he was genuine… She stretched out a hand, "Then I guess thank you should be my response. I am Queen Emma of the Enchanted Forest, I thank you for your brave assistance."

He seemed to be looking at her more intently now the two were face to face. Another shiver passed over her. But it wasn't from the cold but instead the way his eyes roamed her body and face - in an almost raw manner which had her torn between wanting to blush and wanting to grab her skirts and run.

Softly, he took her offered hand and placed his lips against it. They were warm, just like his body had been when she pressed against him earlier and the coat that wrapped around her now - the one that smelled like sweat and spice and that shouldn't be so appealing but she couldn't deny she enjoyed the scent. Her lashes fluttered as he slowly pulled away. His moist mouth sticking to her pale skin. Entranced, she watched a soft tendril of hair ran over his forehead as he lifted his eyes to meet hers again. "Your highness, I am honoured."

Time paused. He kept a firm grip on her hand, making no move to release it. The earlier chill was now replaced with a burning fire, starting in her gut and flaring up her cheeks within seconds. He moistened his lips. She watched his tongue dart out - hypnotised by the way it ran along the seam of his mouth.

She should speak. She should say something. She should look away-

"Perhaps," he began softly, just as she feared they would stand like this forever, "We should move on. He may not have been alone."

He gestured to the body not six feet away. "Yes," she nodded, "That would be wise."

"Good, then follow me, I have some experience of navigating woodland." He smiled a little more and finally let her hand softly drop before he turned to lead the way.

She wrapped the now released hand inside the coat, the burning heat of a moment ago fading as she tried to ignore the nagging sensation that something was amiss as she followed the stranger's path and tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

_**Thoughts?**_


	5. A Fork In The Road

Walking ahead, he kept his pace slow but steady. The lady had suffered a little in her tumble and he couldn't help but notice she was lacking one shoe. He picked their path carefully, avoiding the worst of the mud and tangled branches; still she made the occasional muffled curse. Part of him wanted to ask her if she wished to be carried, but his knowledge of her from their brief acquaintance told him she would most likely balk at the idea.

The two walked in silence. Although a few steps behind him, he felt her presence as surely as if she were in his line of sight. The light sound of her breathing and the quick movements of her feet were clearly audible in the quiet of the forest. He presumed the battle must be over already. While they were some distance from the road yet, the sound of sword fighting carried easily in still air and yet all was calm.

The sound of rustling disturbed him from his thoughts. His hand darted to his sword and he held his breath as he turned back - instinctively reaching out for her arm to pull her to his side. A heavy sigh of relief escaped his lips as he saw his horse ambling through the trees towards them.

"Horse," he smiled, letting go of his sword, "You should know better than to sneak up on a man."

"So this is your mighty steed," she called from behind him. He looked back , somewhat unsure whether she was mocking him.

"This is my horse," he confirmed, taking hold of his reins.

The royal laughed lightly, "And you call your horse, 'horse'?"

Turning, he gave her a queer look, "Aye," he nodded, "What else would I call him?"

"I don't know," she began, shaking her head lightly as she stepped forward to run her hand along the horse's slender neck, "Anything… My first horse was called Apollo - he was so fast my mother said surely he must be of the gods…" Her eyes lowered to the ground.

He recognized the pain of loss, it was a familiar friend: the way her posture stiffened and her chest sagged when she mentioned her mother. At that moment, he wished he had more knowledge of the rulers of the kingdoms - wished he could offer some solace at least through understanding. Yet all her could give was his silent presence, wrapping his hand tighter the soft leather reigns and moving beside her.

"This horse is not a pet, your highness."

"Indeed," she whispered, turning her head to look at him. Her gaze was cool but not uncordial; keeping a cautious distance in discourse as well as in physicality. "But he is more than that: he is your companion, yes?"

Grudgingly, he nodded. He ran his hands through the horse's mane, removing a few leaves and small twigs that had become entangled within it during his journey. "You could say that."

She kept his gaze for a moment longer, before returning to look at the animal. "I think I shall call you Prince, for you look like a noble steed."

"Prince?" he replied, unable to keep the snort of laughter from his voice.

"What of it? You may not wish to name the animal, but I do."

Killian wasn't quite sure how to reply, unaccustomed to royals - or most folk, for that matter. As it turned out, he didn't have to.

"Sir, I believe my guard will be anxious for my return. May we make haste back to my party?"

"Of course."

Slipping away from where she stood, the lady circled around to the other side of the horse. Clicking his tongue, Killian guided the newly christened Prince through the woodland, heading up the bank they had earlier fallen down, until the trees began to thin slightly. Opposite him, the lady kept her fingers running lightly over the horse's neck and mane. The animal snorted softly from time to time in appreciation.

Soon they could hear the faint sound of voices calling and the soft thud of horses cantering along the road ahead of them.

Pulling tight on the reins, he turned to look over the animal's saddle just as she did the same. Taking in her torn dress and disheveled hair, he was almost able to forget that she was a queen. She looked too young, too ordinary… yet not, at the same time. It was perplexing.

"I believe you will find your men on the crest of this hill," he told her. There was a strange few seconds where the two observed one another. She seemed to want to say something, her mouth pinching and twisting slightly. He knew not _what_ to say. The impasse ended when she began to shrug off his coat.

"Thank you - Killian, is it?" He nodded. "If you come with me I'm sure I can find some way of compensating you for your-"

"That is not necessary, milady," he interrupted, accepting the coat and tossing it over the horse's back. "I did not assist you to curry favor."

She gave him an odd smile, glancing at his slender animal then again at his worn clothing, "But surely there must be some way I can thank you?"

With the tilt of her head, her green eyes refracted the light and became almost translucent. Her pale skin took on the mottled tones of sunlight filtered through the canopy of the forest. She looked like she belonged there - amongst the trees.

A sudden feeling of boldness overcame him. Maybe it was the intimate setting of the half-light in the forest, perhaps it was the pretty pink flush of her cheeks and, he had to admit, this was the first time he had been alone with a woman in some time-. "Perhaps-"

"Yes?" she asked, taking a step closer to the horse and laying one palm on his worn saddle.

His head still dipped, he continued, rapidly as though he may lose the nerve if he did not with speed - "A kiss is often given in thanks."

"A kiss?"

He looked up just in time to see the dawning expression of understanding unravel across her face, accompanied by a deep red hue that began at the tips of her ears and traveled down over her neck. "I-" did he sense a wavering in her voice? -"-I don't think that would be appropriate. I am betrothed. To be married."

He looked at the overgrown forest floor. A wood beetle was scampering over the rotting remains of a tree branch - already half overtaken by the vines and plants that threatened to engulf it. The creature stopped, before darting into the undergrowth: disappearing, much like his moment of bravery.

Giving a soft smile of apology, he looked up to her unreadable face, "Forgive my impudence. I so rarely stay among good company that I forget the ways of the regular folk."

The queen did not reply. Had he upset her?

Killian dipped his head, a sudden shyness overcoming him. "Milady, merely the knowledge that you are safe is thanks enough."

"Indeed," she replied, lowering her hands from the animal and circling around his head so they were face to face once more. "You are my rescuer - I can easily overlook a slight lapse in decorum."

He resisted the urge to reply with a quick tongue, as he would ordinarily. Having chosen to not stake his claim to one realm or another, his patience for royalty and their ways was short to say the least.

"You go along, I will watch here until you reach the road."

She nodded again, her hands moving to lift her skirt as she took her first steps towards the road. But then she seemed to hesitate before looking back over her shoulder.

"I'm headed to Camelot, you know. To be wed."

He lifted an eyebrow, "So you have told me."

Emma ran her hands down the sides of her ruined dress, balling her fingers in the silk, her brow furrowed slightly, "So, should you find yourself in need of assistance…"

"I will know where to call, your highness." He bowed lightly, not letting his eyes leave hers.

"Thank you, Killian." With another, hesitant smile, she nodded once more and turned back towards the road.

The vision of blue skirts and blonde hair gradually became obscured by the foliage. He watched carefully, waiting until he heard a voice cry out, "I've found her."

He laid his head against Prince's neck, taking some warmth from the animal, waiting until he heard the start of carriage wheels - until he could be assured the road was clear. Finally, he tugged once more on the reins and the two lonely figures began again on their aimless journey.

/

The bank grew steeper as she walked. Tugging her skirts higher, she warily chose her path, careful to rest her bare foot in the softer, mossy patches that tiled the forest floor. Behind her she could hear the gentle noises of the horse - Prince - that told her that her rescuer was still watching as he promised. More than once she resisted the urge to turn back and look at him once more.

So short was their acquaintance - not more than half of an hour - yet what had passed in that time were the most thrilling and terrifying moments of her life. Every sensation seemed to have taken on extra depth since she had tumbled from the carriage. The greens of the forest seemed deeper and more vibrant - leaping alive from the branches as she stumbled more into its depths. The scent of damp and fragrant plants was sweeter somehow; perhaps the quickening of the blood flowing through her veins was heightening her senses?

Indeed, the euphoria of escape from possible danger had left her heart thudding and everything was still a blur.

But one thing was clear still: where he had held her tight against him, she still tingled. Never had she been touched like that - so brutally, so harshly, so _honestly. _It was oddly disconcerting, yet pleasant in a way she could not deny nor explain.

Nearing the ridge of the hill, she could see daylight breaking through the trees in thick shafts. Soon they reached her toes, gradually rising up her skirts until she finally stumbled back onto the road and was almost blinded by the midday sun.

All of a sudden, she was swarmed by guards. Ruby was there by her side, her arms wrapped around her waist. Mary Margaret was a few steps away, weeping silent happy tears as the medic they had brought with them checked her for wounds.

"I'm fine," she insisted, trying to shake free of the commotion, desperately wanting to sit and rest and think-

_"How did you escape?"_

_"Were you hurt, madam?"_

_"Were you followed?"_

So many questions when all she wanted was quiet. The lie had tripped from her tongue before she even knew it.

"I hid in a tree."

As soon as it was spoken she felt foolish. She had no reason to be dishonest, yet…

Part of her wanted to keep something for herself. Life, as she lived it, afforded little privacy or secrets. But no one had seen her escape through the woods and encounter with the stranger, Killian. In fact, it was almost taking on an unearthly appearance in her own memory. What harm was there in keeping something for herself - she was safe and returned, was that not all that mattered?

So she let them mollycoddle her - swathing her in blankets and jostling her towards the carriage. Ruby and Mary Margaret fussed and fretted, wiping her muddied skin and tempting her with water and red wine as a tonic. As best she could, she acquiesced to their incessant demands, before allowing the women to wrap her in a blanket as the carriages began to move once more.

Hit by a sudden tiredness, she watched the trees pass by in a blur of greens and browns. Closing her eyes, she let herself run over the morning's events. A euphoric feeling in the face of her escape overcame her. It felt almost like a dream.

Was it a dream? Was it real? Was he real? Or had she concocted the scenario in her mind?

/

When they reached their lodgings, she retired immediately to bathe and sleep. Removing her shift, she saw the faint bruises on her hip where the stranger - Killian - had pulled her to him.

While the hot water soothed her aching muscles, she ran her hand over the yellowing marks, imagining his fingers there, remembering the strength and urgency of his touch. She sank deeper into the copper bath, until her shoulders were covered and only her toes peeked out at the edge. Lifting her hand, she pressed her fingers to her lips, letting herself pretend - for a moment - that she had kissed him. For if his touch left such an impression on her body, she could only but imagine the effect of his lips on hers.

**A/N - reviews are always appreciated!**


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